Part 5 (1/2)

”Why good at swimming?” I inquired.

”'Cause the 'runs' have ris, and ar considerable deep by this time.”

”That's comforting news.”

”Yas, to a man as seems in a hurry,” he replied, looking at my horse, which was covered with foam.

”How far is it to the nearest run?” I asked.

”Wal, it mought be six mile; it mought be seven, but you've one or two all-fired ones to cross arter that.”

Here was a pleasant predicament. It was nearly five o'clock, and our horse, though a n.o.ble animal, could not make the distance on an un.o.bstructed route, in the then heavy state of the roads, in less than three hours. Long before that time it would be dark, and no doubt stormy, for the sky, which had lowered all the afternoon, every now and then uttered an ominous growl, and seemed ready to fall down upon us.

But turning back was out of the question, so, thanking the ”native,” I was about to proceed, when he hailed me as follows:

”I say, stranger, what's the talk in the city?”

”Nothing, sir,” I replied, ”but fight and Secession.”

”D--n Secession!” was the decidedly energetic answer.

”Why so, my friend? That doctrine seems to be popular hereabouts.”

”Yas, pop'lar with them South Car'lina chaps. They'd be oneasy in heaven if Gabriel was cook, and the LORD head-waiter.”

”They must be hard to suit,” I said; ”I 'kalkerlate' _you're_ not a South Carolinian.”

”No, sir-ee! not by several mile. My mother moved over the line to born me a decent individual.”

”But why are you for the Union, when your neighbors go the other way?”

”'Cause it's allers carried us 'long as slick as a cart with new-greased wheels; and 'cause, stranger, my grand'ther was one of Marion's boys, and spilt a lettle claret at Yewtaw for the old consarn, and I reckon he'd be oneasy in his grave if I turned my back on it now.”

”But, my friend,” I said, ”they say Lincoln is an Abolitionist, and if inaugurated, he will free every darky you've got.”

”He can't do that, stranger, 'cordin' to the Constetution, and grand'ther used to say that ar dokermunt would hold the d--l himself; but, for my part, I'd like to see the n.i.g.g.e.rs free.”

”See the n.i.g.g.e.rs free!” I replied in undisguised astonishment; ”why, my good sir, that is rank treason and abolition.”

”Call it what yer a mind to, them's my sentiments; but I say, stranger, if thar's ony thing on airth that I uttarly dispise it ar a Northern dough-face, and it's clar yer one on 'em.”

”There, my friend, you're mistaken. I'm neither an Abolitionist nor a dough-face. But _why_ do you go for freeing the n.i.g.g.e.rs?”

”'Cause the white folks would be better off. You see, I have to feed and clothe my n.i.g.g.e.rs, and pay a hundred and twenty and a hundred and fifty a year for 'em, and if the n.i.g.g.e.rs war free, they'd work for 'bout half that.”

Continuing the conversation, I learned that the umbrella-hatted gentleman worked twenty hired negroes in the gathering of turpentine; and that the district we were entering was occupied by persons in the same pursuit, who nearly all employed ”hired hands,” and entertained similar sentiments; Colonel J----, whom I was about to visit, and who was a large slave-_owner_, being about the only exception. This, the reader will please remember, was the state of things at the date of which I am writing, in the _very heart_ of Secessiondom.

Bidding the turpentine-getter a rather reluctant ”good-by,” I rode on into the rain.

It was nearly dark when we reached the first ”run,” but, fortunately, it was less swollen than our way-side acquaintance had represented, and we succeeded in crossing without difficulty. Hoping that the others might be equally as fordable, we pushed rapidly on, the darkness meanwhile gathering thickly about us, and the rain continuing to fall. Our way lay through an unbroken forest, and as the wind swept fiercely through it, the tall dark pines which towered on either side, moaned and sighed like a legion of unhappy spirits let loose from the dark abodes below.

Occasionally we came upon a patch of woods where the turpentine-gatherer had been at work, and the white faces of the ”tapped” trees, gleaming through the darkness, seemed an army of ”sheeted ghosts” closing steadily around us. The darkness, the rain, and the hideous noises in the forest, called up unpleasant a.s.sociations, and I inwardly determined to ask hospitality from the first human being, black or white, whom we should meet.